


Lost Weekend

by carolinecrane



Category: The Brotherhood (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris doesn't remember much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Weekend

Chris doesn't remember much about that weekend. Bits and pieces here and there of Devon and the rest of them, of hands on his skin and the coppery taste of blood on his tongue. It's weird, because he knows it all happened and he's pretty sure part of him even wanted it to, but the harder he tries to remember how it went, the more he forgets.

He still catches Dan giving him wary looks every once in awhile, when he thinks Chris isn't paying attention. Like he thinks maybe Chris isn't really as back to normal as he says he is. Like maybe he's expecting to wake up one night and find Chris standing over his bed, trying to decide on the best place to bite him.

That thought does weird things to him, so he tries not to go there when Dan's around. Not because he's worried about succumbing to a sudden urge to drink Dan's blood – he's not – but the sucking on his neck part…well, that brings back some hazy half-memories and Chris isn't sure whether they really happened, or if it's all part of Devon's mindfuck.

He thinks he might have had sex with that one chick. He can't remember her name, but he sees her on campus sometimes and whenever he does there's a weird flash of skin and blood and heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. He remembers hands on him and the taste of someone else's mouth, and he tells himself it's her he's remembering. Only the hands seem bigger in his hazy, fucked-up memories, rougher and stronger and more…masculine, and he knows it's not her he's remembering.

Which leaves him with Devon, and Chris tries not to remember hard muscles and insistent kisses and expert hands touching every inch of him. Only he doesn't know if it's a memory or just something he dreamed up, and he can't even ask because Devon's dead and he's never coming back.

The truly fucked up part is that there's a part of Chris that wishes he would.

He doesn't want Dan to know any of this, not what might have happened with Devon or that Chris kind of hopes that it did. He doesn't want Dan to know that he dreams about it sometimes, that even when he killed Devon to save his own life part of him regretted it. He doesn't want to feel any of those things, but there it is all the same, and no matter how hard he tries he can't turn it off.

Sometimes he thinks Dan already knows. He's still the same guy, still kind of geeky and willing to make jokes at his own expense just to make Chris laugh. But every once in awhile, when they're studying on opposite sides of the room, Chris looks up to find Dan looking at him like he can see right into Chris. Like he knows exactly what happened with Devon and he's wondering if Chris wanted it. If he still wants it.

And he does, only he's not exactly sure _what_ he wants, because he can't remember anything but vague touches and that low, rich voice whispering things that make him feel like he's on fire from the inside.

He thinks about just reaching out and taking what he wants. About standing up and crossing the room, wiping the wary expression off Dan's face and showing him once and for all exactly who Chris is. What he is, something between human and monster, not quite what he used to be but not what Devon was either. He wants Dan, maybe wanted him even before Devon, but he's not sure Dan wants him back, and he doesn't want to do anything else to fuck up their friendship. Dan's the one who tried to save his life even after Chris blew him off, and Chris doesn't want to make things even weirder between them by asking for something Dan can't give.

That doesn't stop him from _wanting_ , though, from picturing the fear in Dan's eyes when Chris leans in for the first time. He imagines the way Dan's stomach would tremble as Chris peels his ugly shirt off, the way his hands would shake when he puts them on Chris for the first time. Sometimes he even thinks Dan would go for it, but the only way to know for sure is to try, and he's not willing to take the risk.

Maybe that makes him a coward. Maybe it just makes him a good friend; he hopes so, because Dan's about the best friend he could ask for. He knows that now, even though it was easy to forget while Devon was around. It was way too easy to blow Dan off for someone else, and Chris spends a lot of time convincing himself that it was some kind of freaky mind control. That there was something magic about Devon that drew him in, that it wasn't just the fact that Devon was the first guy who ever wanted him.

Another flash of not-quite-memory, and he feels the blush rising in his cheeks. When he tries to chase the image in his mind it's gone, and he swallows a sigh of disappointment and glances up to find Dan watching him. This time he doesn't even look away, he just smiles sort of sheepishly and shrugs one shoulder like he knows he's been caught and he doesn't really care.

"I don't know about you, but if I read one more chapter on object-oriented programming languages I'm going to go crazy."

Chris doesn't bother pointing out that he doesn't have a clue what Dan's talking about. Instead he shuts his own textbook and nods in the direction of the door. "I could use a break myself. You wanna go grab some coffee or something?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Dan says, grinning now and the image sends a jolt of…something through Chris. It feels almost like he just asked his roommate out, but Dan's always joking around, so chances are he doesn't mean anything by it. Still, Chris slides an arm around his shoulders as they leave their room, and when Dan doesn't pull away he relaxes a little.

It's not much, but it's a start, and this, at least, he knows he'll remember in the morning.


End file.
